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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write. Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground. Kiya's gift. I love it!
Green Peas at Stake
#579770 added April 16, 2008 at 5:57pm
Restrictions: None
Art (Dew Drop 16)
Art

                    For a painting a friend sent me. *Smile*

Old friend, you paint, so sad and sweet...
Why, those colors say everything, like silent reminders
on canvas, engraving my life, brushstroke by brushstroke,
to hint at what is lost, what no one sees.

If only your colors had a body I could dwell in...
one you could touch with your eyes as if
our skins could touch, like the day when I told you
I woke up from untamed dreams of childhood.

Yet, what came out of my lips has vanished
in the murky rush of years, and now, I find
my way with half-blinded eyes through your art,
and you hold my hand in remembrance.

When the real you reaches through in understanding,
I detect, in this icy life, some instrumentalist
drove us together to huddle around the only flame left,
not to chant nonsense but to pray for deeper perception.





© Copyright 2008 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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